We Can't Kill the Witness
by Mirus Infidus
Summary: He's our only witness, the only one who can tell us the truth. Well, let's hear it. AU
1. Seven Questions

_What is _**war**_?  
><em>-It's a card game. The players all begin with an equal number of cards, and they take one card at a time from their deck and flip it face-up. Whoever has the highest number wins the cards, and whoever runs out of cards first loses.

_What is a _**lie**_?  
><em>-It's not the truth. That's about it. People tell lies, because lying is better; the truth is boring.

_Where do _**ideas**_come from?  
><em>-All the ideas that ever existed and ever will exist in the world are written down on little pieces of paper, and they're all floating down a stream that never ends. All the time, people go down to the stream and take the ideas.

_What do people _**steal**_?  
><em>_-_People steal things they don't need. It's more fun. The things people do need, they beg for.

_How do people _**win**_?  
><em>_-_People who win know that they're going to win from the very beginning. They know they'll win because they've made everything happen so that the ending is in their favor.

_What is _**death**_?  
><em>-The end of a story. Death used to be the end of every story, but now the dead don't matter as much, so when one person dies, the story moves on to another character.

_Do you _**understand**_?_


	2. Gray, Gray, Red, Yellow

Everything is gray.

The walls are gray, the table's gray, these two chairs we're sitting in are gray, even the light seeping in through the window is tinted gray with the dirty air.

Across this gray table sits the gray-haired man in his no-nonsense gray suit. With my yellow bandana around my neck and my red shoes, I'm probably the only color in this god-forsaken room. No, in this entire god-forsaken _building_.

The man's a fatty, and not really easy on the eyes, but by some miracle he actually he has a wedding band on his right hand. He sets a few folders down on the table in front of me, making sure that they're in a nice even stack.

I'm sure this guy knows exactly what it is he wants to say, but it seems like he's having trouble putting it into words. Maybe it's because I'm so young? The police really should have gotten someone more apt to do this than the joke across from me.

He opens his mouth, then closes it, rethinking his speech. Then he opens and closes it again, and a third time, before finally saying something. And, frankly, after all that anticipation, I'm really quite disappointed with what he decided to say.

"Kida Masaomi-san?" See?

I roll my eyes and cross my arms. He already knows who I am, I had to be identified about twenty times before they let me _this_ deep into the police station. "Yes." Okay, so my response isn't exactly masterful and eloquent either.

"I'm Officer Taniyama. Do you know why you're here?" he asks. For some reason, he couldn't come out and say this right off the bat.

"The robbery, right?"

He nods his head. "The robbery. Right." He says it like he needed me to remind him. "You're our only surviving witness." Not to mention, _suspect_. "Could you tell me, in detail, in your own words, exactly what happened?"

I haven't heard that line a million times recently. I sit up straight, feigning cheeriness. "Sure," I say. "Where to begin?" I tap my chin comically and look over to Taniyama.

He rotates his hands through the air like he's trying to physically sort through his thoughts. Oh no, they didn't tell you how to handle a situation like _this_, did they? I tilt my head to the side with all the innocence of your five-year-old sister.

"You..."

"Okay, I'll just start," I say. I figured I would have to do that anyway. He was probably going to tell me to begin where ever I felt like. So, I just took the initiative.

I take a deep breath and close my eyes, preparing myself to tell this story again. Putting my elbows on the table, I massage my temples. Not really necessary, but it adequately adds to the dramatic effect I'm trying to present.

"So, there were five of us involved," I say. Taniyama's face lights up; ah, this is what he was waiting for.

"Who?"

"I'm getting to that. Anyway, there were five of us: Me, Mikado—er, Ryuugamine Mikado, Orihara Izaya, Heiwajima Shizuo, and the black biker. That's Celty Sturluson, since you probably didn't know, and it's just going to be easier to tell the story if she actually has a name."

"Hm, okay." I open my eyes, and I see that the man's taking notes. I guess he'd hidden a pen and notepad somewhere in that dull suit.

"You're going to need a bigger notepad," I comment absentmindedly.

He looks up at me, then down at his notepad. "That's none of your concern." He chuckles. "If I need to take a notepad-break, I'll let you know, 'kay?" His jokes are lamer than mine! How would Mikado have reacted to that shocker?

"You be sure to." I grin.

"Yes, yes. Continue?" Sorry, I don't have anymore coins to deposit. Aw, heck, I'll continue anyway.

"Okay. So, about a year ago, Ryuugamine-kun came to Ikebukuro because he couldn't stand to be away from me after I moved away from our teeny hometown–"

"Ah, where was that?" he asks.

I roll my eyes. "In Unimportantville." He shakes his head, but says nothing, and I go on: "At first he was really nervous, and he was floundering around like an American tourist in Aoyama who lost their phrasebook. But, with my help, he met everybody important, and even got a girlfriend, Sonohara Anri!"

"So... you introduced him to Orihara, Heiwajima, and Celty?" His pen is poised above the paper, and I notice he's written way more than what I've said. Someone's really reading in between the lines.

"No, actually. No, actually, it's not 'no.' Actually, it's yes and no." Taniyama nods slowly. Is he still following? There's not much to follow, I hope he doesn't hurt his brain. "I introduced him to Orihara-san and Heiwajima-san, but he introduced me to Celty-chan."

He nods, this time it's a nod of actual understanding, though, not one pleading for an explanation. "I see."

"Mm-hm. So, back to where I was! See, we all five sorta knew each other already, but we weren't buddy-buddy or anything. Except for me and Mikado. It was about... I don't know, three months ago? Yeah, three months ago, that sounds pretty much right. Three months ago, that was when we had to start working together."

"Excuse me, you _had_ to...?"

"Yeah."

"Explain. Please."

"Sheesh." I fold my arms. "I'm getting to that." Man, this guy is impatient.

…

**Author's Note: **[insert emoticon here] Thanks for stopping by. This is inspired by the movie _The Usual Suspects_, but is not just a rip-off of the movie. That should become more evident...

**Disclaimer: **I have to face reality... I don't own _Durarara!_.

**Claimer: **Again, an unpleasant reality that I must come to terms with: Taniyama _is_ mine.

**Music: **"Copacabana" by Barry Manilow


	3. Argentinian Orbit

It stank so terribly on that subway.

I mean, really, really bad. I think that there was a fight between the fish merchants and the skunk enthusiasts before I got on, and they were using rotten eggs as ammunition.

I wasn't really surprised at how few people there were when I boarded; anyone with any sense was at home, sleeping soundly under their blankets.

But me and Mikado, we couldn't be at our houses. No, that's not true. Mikado could have been at his house, if he wanted to be, but you see, I kind of got in some trouble with the wrong people. They were coming to look for me, and I knew it'd be suicide if I stayed in my house. I left, but not before calling my best bud to let him know not to be looking for me because I wouldn't be around. He said that if they were looking for me, they'd probably check his place, too, and that he ought to leave so that when they came they couldn't get any information out of him. Now, I don't know what kind of information he was talking about, because I didn't tell him nothing (precisely because I knew he'd crack immediately once someone brought out a spiked club). All he knew was that I wouldn't be around for a while.

I've been living in this city since middle school, and this kid from the country who's barely been in the city for a year was actually the one to tell me that the subway was still running.

Anyway, we were on the subway because I was on the lam from... You know, I can't even remember. Probably a color gang or something. Heh, that sort of stuff happened a lot to me.

We were being really quiet, trying not to wake the sleeping bum a couple seats away or something, and then Mikado suddenly turns and asks, "How much money did you bring?"

And I say, "All of it."

So, he says, "Oh, so just enough to buy half a thing at the 100-yen store?"

And I say, "When did you become my banker?"

And then he does that shoulder-roll-head-nod thing he does and he says in a really low voice, "It's okay. I have 50,000."

I got really excited and said something like, "Great, we can eat food legally," and he told me to be quiet. So, I shut up, but I kept looking at him, scanning him up and down, wondering where he was keeping the money.

Don't get the wrong impression. I wouldn't steal from him. But you never know, right? There might have been some time when I needed to have access to the money and Mikado was unconscious or something. And not because I knocked him out.

You're probably making notes on how defensive I'm being, huh? You really don't trust me, do you? Whatever, not like I need you to. But my version's the only one you're going to be getting, so you've got to believe it.

Mikado never traveled much. He hardly even left his house. He'd definitely never been on the run before. So, even though he brought the money, he was depressingly ill-prepared. He didn't bring a bag, and the only food he had was a pack of gum with three sticks left. And you know what that means. Yeah, more work for me.

Okay, so I didn't really bring much either, but with me it's understandable. I was in a state of panic, desperately fleeing to some unknown place. Why would I think to think ahead? I did have a protein bar in my pocket, one of those meal replacement kind that my mom had bought in bulk a few months back because she was on some health trip. Meal replacements make better meals than gum.

It got really boring on that subway, really fast. Mikado was all nervous, so whenever I tried to talk to him, he just looked at me and nodded. He didn't even say anything damaging to my self-esteem! The only other person in our car was that sleeping bum, so I couldn't even try to talk to someone else. There were forty-two seats in the car. I counted. Three times. I dug around in my pockets. Maybe I had a marker and could doodle on the sleeping man's face. Of course, no such luck. I did have an old hotel key, though. I started chipping off the old gum from the back of the seat in front of us. Mikado stared at me, and that actually amused me a bit. But it wore off pretty fast.

"Forget it," I finally said when we pulled up to another stop, and I punched Mikado's arm to tell him we were getting off. He stared at me with these big eyes, but he was still too nervous to say anything. He just followed me off the train. It was quiet in the station, eerily quiet. There were no people other than the two of us in there, and it felt like we were breaking some sort of law. Like, all minors unaccompanied by an adult are forbidden from being in subway stations after midnight.

Ah, you aren't even smiling! Was it really such a bad joke? You know, Mikado used to give me points based on how terrible my jokes were. I think that when he died I had a grand total of five points. That's a bad thing, by the way! Heh.

Anyway, where was I? Ah…right! We left the station, and guess what? We were still in Tokyo. Isn't that perfect? How big is this damn city, anyway? It felt like we were on the subway for a good hour, but it must've been shorter. Or the driver was fucking with us and we were just driving up and down the track a bunch of times.

I didn't know where specifically we were, but it didn't look like Ikebukuro. So, we had made _some_ progress. Brilliant, we'd succeeded in not getting too lost! Of course, that meant I hadn't succeeded in remaining not too dead, either.

You know what I mean.

So there we were, just walking around. Then Mikado turns to me and says, "Hey, isn't it weird that there's no one around?"

I laughed and told him it was probably getting close on two AM, so it's not like a ton of people were going to be out. And then he said, "Yeah, but where are the hookers and drug dealers and arms dealers? Shouldn't there be gang members trying to recruit impressionable, disposable youth who think they're badass for being out at two AM?"

I cocked my head to the side. I'm going to blame sleep deprivation on this one, because when I looked around, I realized that the streets were pretty empty. Now, that either meant, a) we were the only survivors of some terrorist attack on the city, b) that everyone had been evacuated and we just didn't get the memo, c) that we were trapped in a little rip in the fabric of time and space and that at any moment we'd see something creepy like a little girl walking upside down on air; but each option was really just branching off of d) that some weird shit—excuse my French—was going down.

So I turned to Mikado, but I didn't get to say anything, because out of nowhere his head exploded.

…

Yeah, right.

Did you write that down?

God, you cops are ridiculous. I bet you ain't even listening to what I'm saying; just hearing it and your hand's translating it to words.

Whatever, you still want to hear the retelling of this whole deal, right? Okay, then back to business.

I didn't get why it was so dead out, and of course my mind went immediately to that freak who likes to play god with the city. I'll give you three guesses as to who I'm talking about. Hm, c'mon, aren't you going to guess? You probably already know who I mean, so there's not much use guessing. Actually… maybe you don't know. Orihara Izaya. He's the one you should have arrested. You know, before he went and died and all.

I really kind of hoped that it would be him. Because when he's around, you can expect to get fucked over, and you know that he's going to screw everything up, but then you also know that there's someone who's in charge of everything. In control. It's somebody's fault that you've been fucked over and everything is all screwed up. So, it's not so bad. I mean, it ain't a pleasant experience or anything, but it's better than having to just trust that things will work out. Because him—and the bastard would kill me if he heard me say this—he's predictable.

We wandered around for a while until we finally saw somebody. And guess who it was? Nah, we ain't playing this game again. I know you don't like it. It was some random chick. What? There are more people in this city than just the eighteen people I associate with most. Damn, it'd be a lonely existence otherwise… Guess that now, though, I'm down to fifteen people, huh?

The girl was probably around eighteen. Mikado elbowed me, and I interpreted that as, "Go lay on the charm and get us some money from her," even though he probably meant, "Maybe it's not a good idea to go talk to somebody who's standing around on an eerily empty night," but ain't that the beauty of hindsight?

So, I sauntered up to her and said, "Hello, there, beautiful. It's probably not a good idea for a young lady as pretty as you to be walking alone at night. Me and my friend, here, though, we're masters of aikido. We'll protect ya! If you'll let us, that is."

The street lights were so bright that I could see her face, and she could probably see mine, too. And I doubt she would forget it. She turned to me, anger in her eyes, and groaned.

Now I was thinking, _Damn, she's a vengeful ghost, isn't she?_ Don't worry, Taniyama, she wasn't. Taniyama-_san_. She suddenly started spouting curses, rapid-fire. She flailed her arms, pointing at me, and then off to one of the buildings. "The hell are these little fuckers doing here?" she demanded from one of the buildings.

From the shadows near the building emerged a tall man with the most ridiculous moustache you've ever seen, all curly like this. "Ay, oh dear, this was not planned. What _are_ they doing here? Hey! Could somebody _please_ give us a little light down here?" Powerful fluorescent lights were suddenly flashed on, and I had to blink for two minutes straight to get my eyes used to it.

"Ah—uh-um," Mikado stammered, using his hand to shield his eyes.

"Ex_cuse_ me, boys, but what _are_ you doing here? Oh dear, oh dear, this is supposed to be a closed set." Mister Mustachio looked over his shoulder and yelled back into the shadows, "Where _is_ Chiaki-kun? She didn't bring in any extras, did she?" It was quiet for a bit, and he turned all the way around, tapping his foot, with his hands on his hips. Then a little guy came running out, some funky headset on his head and a bunch of papers in his arms.

I could just barely make out what the guy was saying; it was something along the lines of a miscommunication with the train station. Mister Moustache shook his head emphatically, then swung around, practically knocking the little guy in the head, and at the very least spilling his papers. The little guy was frantically picking them all up while Mister Moustache sauntered closer to me and Mikado, swinging his hips and crossing his arms. "_You_ cannot be here right now, boys. You're going to have to leave."

I don't know if I was just trying to push my luck with this guy or if I was really worried, but I started protesting as soon as the words were out of his mouth. "But, sir! It's so late! We're just young boys, the two of us, how can you throw us out into the city all on our own?"

The woman who wasn't a ghost scoffed and said, "Didn't you little assholes say something about being masters of aikido?"

I cut her a nasty glare, then turned back to the man and shook my head. "Please, sir, at least let us stay here until morning! It's so dangerous to be out at night, especially in this part of town!" –I really had no idea where we were, but this guy didn't have to know that.—"And we're just kids. Look at us. How could you be so cruel as to throw us out onto the streets to fend for ourselves among all the monsters of the night? Have you no heart?"

The man was frowning, but his body language was saying that I amused him. He opened his mouth, then shut it, then opened it again, then shut it, then opened it again, then shut it, then opened it again, then shut it, then opened it again, then shut it, then—hey, are you getting all this?

Okay, okay, he didn't do it that many times. Once, once is all. He seemed like he was going to give me a pat on the back and lead us to a nice hotel and pay the fee, but he caught himself just in time and threw his hands into the air. "No, no, no! Enough of the theatrics, boy, we do _not_ have the time for this. You _and_ your friend need to _leave_ the premises immediately. Jacques-san will _escort_ you out."

"Hey, hey! Leave the premises? This is a public area, you know! You can't kick us out! That's like saying you can't sit on the library steps, or stand on a street corner, or climb a tree, or—"

The man sighed, pretty impressive, like he had it all stored up and was ready to expel it at once. "We," he said in a voice just as impressive as his sigh, "have many—"

Then he was cut off. This young guy who had somehow materialized behind the man said in a flat voice, "What's going on here?"

Swiftly the mustachioed man swept around to face the guy. He looked familiar, but I was having trouble connecting the dots until the dramatic man screeched, "Ha-Hanejima-san!" Aha! You know who Hanejima Yuuhei is? He's been in tons of movies and dramas. And I think he did a bit in some vampire anime a couple years back. He's really big. Popular, I mean. "Hanejima-san, so sorry to disturb you!" The man turned to face us and sneered, "Look, see, you've disturbed Hanejima-san." He went back to looking at Hanejima and said sweetly, almost in a kiss-ass way, "You see, _these_ two have just walked right on set and are refusing to leave. They've been a nuisance and are hindering our production."

Hanejima looked past the man at the two of us. Mikado's face flushed—you wouldn't expect it, but Anri-chan was actually one of Yuuhei's fangirls, and supposedly offhandedly compared Mikado to him quite a bit. I chuckled at the sight of my friend like this, but then met Hanejima's steady gaze. For an actor, that guy is pretty unemotional. I couldn't read his expression at all. Finally he said, "Nishida-san, have you called Jacques-san?"

The mustachioed man—Nishida, it seemed—flicked his own forehead. "Oh, of _course_, Hanejima-san, I meant to, but _he_"—he pointed to me, and, I ain't going to lie, I was a bit proud—"distracted me."

Looking again at me, Hanejima said, "If he's all it takes to distract you, I don't have much faith in your abilities as a director of a major motion picture." He said it all calmly, monotone, like he knew ahead of time he was going to say it.

Nishida laughed awkwardly. "Hanejima-san, Hanejima-san," he smiled, patting Hanejima's shoulders, "have no fear, have no fear. Heh, it wouldn't be good for the star not to trust the director, now _would_ it? No, no, my boy, no, it would _not_. I'll page Jacques-san im_med_iately, and have these two escorted off set."

Hanejima shook Mister Moustache's hands from his shoulders. "You don't need to. I know those boys. Let them come with me."

Now, at first I was thinking, _Wait, I don't know this __guy, what's he saying?_ And then I had an epiphany: _I'm being stalked by a celebrity!_ And then kind of a downer: _Or maybe he's stalking Mikado._ And then I got to where I thought was hitting the nail on the head: _He interviewed Mikado and Anri-chan during th__e 'Ikebukuro's loveliest couple' show; he and Mikado must have really hit it off off-camera._

Okay, so I was wrong on all accounts, but the reason didn't really matter to me at the time. I mean, a celebrity was offering to take us with him somewhere. And it was away from whoever the hell this Jacques fellow was, the one who wanted to _escort_ us off set.

Nishida looked from me to Mikado to Hanejima, then forced a smile and nodded so much he nearly snapped his neck. "If you say so, Hanejima-san." Hanejima nodded his head at us and started walking away, and we were—or at least _I _was—all too happy to skip along behind him. I wasn't sure whether to stick my tongue out at the chick who wasn't a ghost or to smile at her, so I just ignored her and pulled Mikado along.

One thing you gotta know about Mikado is that he really liked to use the Internet. He'd be up all hours of the night just chatting with some people he found online. Hell, I'm just glad he didn't say "lol" in real life. But anyway, he had evolved into a superhuman or something, because he could function pretty well on just three hours of sleep. So as the adrenaline rush was wearing off and my eyelids were getting heavy, he was just fine. Well, maybe a little spooked to be out at two AM, but relatively okay otherwise.

Hanejima brought us to this little trailer in some alley. I don't know if it was running off the world's quietest generator or if there was a guy in the back pedaling like a madman on a stationary bike or what, but the trailer was all lit up and nice and warm inside. There wasn't much in there, really, just a little cot with a boring blue blanket on it, a little kitchenette complete with a microwave and a minifridge, and a dog-eared copy of _Gone with the Wind _lying on the floor. He picked up the book and asked if we wanted him to make us some tea.

Mikado looked at me like, _"Can we really accept tea from this guy?"_

And I gave him a look that said, _"C'mon, man, it's free tea,"_ and said we'd be glad to have some. I yawned and wanted to snuggle up in the blanket and go to sleep, or at least go back to the subway to take a nap like that one bum while the train brought us all the way to Timbuktu, but taking tea from a guy and snuggling up into his bed are two different things, so I stayed sitting upright.

Hanejima had the world's least powerful microwave, and we all stood there in silence for a good five minutes. Then he handed us each a cup and said, "Do you know why you're here?"

Now that I say it out loud, it sounds like a pretty ominous question. _"Do you know why you're here?"_ It's like he's a secret government operative or something. Or a cop. Which is a like a less-cool secret government operative. No offense, Taniyama-san, but it's true. Being a cop might've seemed cool to you when you were ten, but everyone knows that cops really suck by the time they're thirteen. Well, I guess you don't. Hey, isn't that what I'm here for?

Ha, ha, no, it's not what I'm here for. I'm here to waste your time. I'm here to tell you the story you've already heard a dozen times and have read about five dozen times. And you're still taking notes! My goodness, man, are you dedicated or what? Let me tell you, Tokyo's lucky to have a cop like you on the squad.

Where was I? Oh, yeah, "Do you know why you're here?"

So, I turn to Mikado because I'm still thinking that it's because he and Hanejima are buddies or something, and he looks at me like he's waiting for me to answer, and I realize that I was dead wrong. I turned back to Hanejima and said, "No, why?"

He keeps that same blank look on his face—have you seen his movies? Can you believe that such an incredible actor could be so boring in real life?—and he took out his cell phone, not answering me.

He started dialing a number, so I said, "Hey, why did you bring us here?"

He ignored the question and asked a different one: "Do you know who I am?"

"Hanejima Yuuhei," I said slowly, "right?" He shrugged his shoulders and put his phone to his ear.

I don't know if it was good sense or lack of sleep, but I was starting to get a bad feeling about where things were going. I stared at him while Mikado stared at me and he stared at his nails. He didn't look like he'd lost much sleep in the past week, not that I know whether he had any reason to or not.

A tense silence overcame us, but Hanejima just sipped his tea nonchalantly. I could faintly hear the trilling of his cell phone while he waited for somebody to pick up. After what seemed like the fiftieth ring, a voice emitted from the phone. I couldn't make out what it was saying, but it was man's voice. They didn't say much; now that I think about it, the phone's ringing had probably woken them up.

"Brother, I have the leader of the Yellow Scarves with me," Hanejima said.

My back straightened and I looked over to Mikado. He was smart enough to act dumb: "The Yellow Scarves? Weren't they a color gang or something?"

I caught on and faked a laugh. "It sounds like the name of a fabric shop. Maybe they're famous for knocking over fabric shops and stealing all the yellow cloth."

Mikado shrugged. He knew that I was the leader of the Yellow Scarves, but—what a pal—he didn't care. Just barely jutting his chin out and sweeping his eyes towards Hanejima—like this—he held three fingers against his side. I nodded softly, getting ready to push past Hanejima and take off into the night like the wanted man I was—and am! Wow, why do I get all the tough breaks?

Mikado slowly brought up one finger so that only two were against his side. Our breathing was slow and controlled, and our attention had fallen from Hanejima. He snapped his cell phone shut and my eyes shot back up to him. Smiling warmly, he apologized for his rudeness. "I just had to give someone a call is all. You know how that is, right? When you've got something that you don't particularly have to do but that'd you kick yourself for not doing?"

Yeah, just like that he'd turned into a completely different person. He was suddenly all smiles and chatty. I was actually caught a little off-guard by this reversal.

"Anyway, you boys must be tired," he said. "I suppose you're in some kind of trouble. Why don't you stay here for the night? Sorry there isn't much in terms of bedding. If you like, I can ask one of the assistants to bring an extra pillow and some blankets."

"Um," chirped Mikado, "we should actually be going." I glanced down to his hand and noticed that he had just one finger pressed against his side now. He started pointing toward the door, and I knew it was time to go. Starting toward Hanejima, the actor grabbed my shoulder. His grip was so strong I thought he was trying to shatter my bone.

Hanejima cocked his head to the side and smiled coyly. "Oh, I insist. Really, it's no trouble to me. I wouldn't be able to forgive myself if I let you two boys out into the dangerous streets without doing anything," he said nonchalantly, as if he didn't have my shoulder in a death grip. "Right?" Maybe it was some sort of special technique he'd picked up from having to deal with so many people all the time, but I swear it was like he was staring into both my and Mikado's eyes at the same time.

Mikado shot me a panicked look. I sighed shakily then nodded at Hanejima. "If you're sure," I said calmly.

He let go of my shoulder, and I rubbed it, certain there was already a bruise forming. Hanejima took a step back and locked the door to the trailer.

"Why did you lock the door?" Mikado asked innocently.

Hanejima looked at him and said, "Oh, it's a habit. Plus, I never know when an overly amorous fan is going to find their way here. Please, lie down, both of you. Would you like me to order more bedding for you, or is the one blanket and pillow adequate? Please, don't worry about me; I'm going to be up all night memorizing lines." Let me tell you this: Hanejima Yuuhei is one damn good actor.

We did as he said and lay down on the little cot. Rain started pounding on the roof. I stared up at the ceiling, Mikado facing the wall. I think I heard him muttering something, but I couldn't be sure over the rain. I remember thinking this: _Hanejima memorizes lines __quieter than anyone I've ever known_.

Some time passed—sorry, I wasn't counting the seconds, so you aren't getting an exact amount—and then someone was banging on the door to the trailer. I turned to the door. "Oi! Kasuka! Let me in!" someone shouted. Hanejima stood up, leaving his script on the ground. He slowly unlocked the door while the person on the other side kept screaming and banging. "I'm going to break something if you don't fucking let me in!" Hanejima said nothing.

I sat up. Hanejima started pushing the door open, and then it was practically ripped off its hinges. Stepping out of the way, he revealed this new guest: Heiwajima Shizuo, aka Ikebukuro's monster.

Heiwajima is smoking a cigarette. Well, the cigarette's lit, but it's more like he's chewing on the end. That must do wonders for his body. Not that I was complaining; anything to make _him_ weaker was gladly welcomed. And not that those thoughts even crossed my mind when I saw him there.

He tromps into the trailer and looks from me to Hanejima. Then he grabs Hanejima's shoulder and shouts, "You didn't say he was a kid!"

Hanejima's face was back to being stone, and he just shrugged his shoulders, brushing Heiwajima's hand away nonchalantly. "You asked me to tell you if I ever got the leader of the Yellow Scarves. Here he is."

Heiwajima narrowed his eyes. "How do you even know that this is him?" he asked.

"He matches the description I received perfectly," Hanejima replied flatly.

Ikebukuro's monster looked me up and down. "And what about the other kid?" he said. "Who's he?"

"He was with him. I believe his name is Ryuugamine."

At some point, Mikado had gotten up and sat down next to me, because that's from where his voice came when he said, "How do you know my name?" The actor just looked at him like he could tell him the answer through some sort of telepathy. Then he turned back to the other man.

Heiwajima thought for a moment before turning to me with a sick grin on his face. "I can't believe some little punk like you is the leader of a color gang," he said. I kept quiet. "Agh, you have no idea how difficult this makes it for me. I came all the way over here because I wanted to kill you. I don't like to hurt kids. Hm," he moves his face down towards mine, "if you weren't so short, it wouldn't be as bad, because then you'd practically be an adult. But you're a shrimp. What are you, thirteen?"

And I said, "Sixteen," before I thought not to say anything.

"Sixteen?" he repeated, and I nodded. "Your fake ID must say you're older though, right? A lot of New Age people say that you're the age you feel, or the age you want to be. So, it stands to reason that if you're running around proclaiming you're twenty that I ought to treat you like an adult, right? And that means I have no reason to hold back."

I was getting a little freaked out, and Hanejima cut in and said, "Brother, don't kill anyone in the trailer. It'll take too long to clean."

Heiwajima grunted. He grabbed my collar—like _this_—and I knew I had to defend myself, so I started trying to talk my way out of it. "Hey, whoa, Heiwajima, I don't even have a fake ID. I'm a good kid, honest. I have no idea why you're here! Trust me, I'm not the guy you want. I've never done anything wrong to you."

"You're the leader of the Yellow Scarves, and you put the word out for some of your guys to kill me. So, you see, this is just self-defense," Heiwajima said between clenched teeth.

He pulled me closer to his face, and I was afraid he was going to bite my nose off or something, so I started throwing out every excuse I could think up: "No, that's not me! I don't even like yellow. I'm _allergic_ to yellow, in fact. Even looking at your hair, it's giving me a bit of a cough. Have you considered anger management? Or group counseling? I think you'd really benefit from that. Hey, let's count to one hundred and take some deep breaths to expel our negativity, how about it? You know, you seem hungry. It's like Simon from the sushi place is always saying, 'Hungry bad. Eat sushi. Sushi good.' He says that, right? What do you say, let's you, me, and these two fellows go grab a bite to eat and put this whole thing behind us, eh? Hey, I heard the leader of the Yellow Scarves is actually one of those immigrants who hangs out in the old magazine building. You know, the ones who all speak Spanish or Portuguese or something. And do I really look like I speak Spanish? The most Spanish I know is 'taco!' And, don't let the hair fool you, I'm no foreigner. Yup, one hundred percent Japanese, born and bred."

Heiwajima was still holding me, but his expression wasn't so enraged anymore as it was bored. I thought I'd gotten off the hook, and I lightly patted his hand to get him to let go. "Okay, sir, I think we all understand now that this was just one big misunderstanding, right? So, me and my buddy here will be taking our leave."

He didn't let go, of course. "Hey!" he growled, and tightened his grip. "You aren't going anywhere. You tried to kill me, so I've got to return the favor." He lifted me up, and I wasn't touching the ground anymore.

_Oh, damn, this is it,_ I thought. _He's going to kill me. He's going to throw me so hard into the ground that they'll feel the impact all the way in Argentina. And then he'll throw Mikado into the sky and his body'll orbit the Earth._

Since convincing him I was the wrong guy hadn't worked very well, I tried another tactic: begging. "Oh, please, Heiwajima-san," I cried, "please don't kill me! I know it was the Yellow Scarves who shot you, and I know you think I told them to, but I swear, it wasn't me! I am the leader of the Yellow Scarves, but I wasn't even a part of the gang when they did that! They were acting without my orders; I was just trying to be a normal kid! Please, you gotta believe me! I never wanted anyone to kill anybody. You can't kill me; I never ever meant to cause you any harm. At all! I'll do whatever you want, sir, just don't kill us!"

"Didn't do anything?" he said. "You've been talking so much my ears have almost started bleeding."

"I'm really, really sorry. I'll shut up if that'll make you happy."

"Shut up." I did. "Good. Well, I probably shouldn't kill a kid, but I can't be sure you're telling the truth."

"Oh, I am, I swear, I am."

"Shut up!" He rubbed his temple. "Look, if you're really telling the truth, I want you to prove it. You need to prove you never meant to kill me." I looked at him quizzically. He looked at Hanejima. "I'm taking the kid."

Hanejima nodded and said, "Take the other one too."

Heiwajima stared at him for a minute then sighed. "Fine." He slung me under one arm and plucked Mikado off the bed and held him under his other. Mikado squirmed, and Heiwajima barked, "Cut that out or I'll smash your ribcage!" Mikado froze.

We were carried out of the trailer and into the rain. Even though I was in what you could call a Really Bad Situation, the only thought in my head was, _Wow, the rain looks kinda cool reflecting the light from the streetlights._

And with that irrelevant thought playing in my head, Heiwajima carried us off into the night.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>Weird that Kida remembers a little thing like how much gum Mikado had, but not from whom he was running. I hope Taniyama schedules a head examination for him…  
>So, if you're really as old as you feel, I'm around twenty-four. How about you?<br>I know the tense sometimes switches from past tense to present tense; remember, this is supposed to be a live narrative. People often do switch tenses depending on the action when telling big stories.

**Disclaimer: **I'm sure Kida would say he belongs to all the girls of the world, but he'd be lying through his teeth, because he's not mine, nor is anything else related to the original _Durarara!_ plot.

**Claimer: **The sleeping bum. And the mustachioed director Nishida, of course.

**Music: **"Love Me Dead" by Ludo


End file.
